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My summer camp experience was unimpressive. Bullying, boredom, petty violence by bored bullies. I tried to build a model submarine, but it was beyond my capabilities, and there wasn't enough time allocated. One season ended with mumps and I almost died.

Camps for adults are much better though. We go out into the desert, drink beer and shoot guns, as well as drive jeeps over various things.

My summer camp experience was unimpressive. Bullying, boredom, petty violence by bored bullies. I tried to build a model submarine, but it was beyond my capabilities, and there wasn't enough time allocated. One season ended with mumps and I almost died.

Camps for adults are much better though. We go out into the desert, drink beer and shoot guns, as well as drive jeeps over various things.

Our camp counselor drove one of the motor-boats over a rock in the shallows.

We told him many times he was heading for a rock. He said we were not. He was wrong.

The rock punctured the boat, and it began to sink. We made it back to shore, but the boat was now useless.

When the last day finally came, there weren't enough boats to take everyone back at the same time. Rather than making multiple trips in boats, the counselors deciding we would hike to a ferry station and head home from there. Along the road, in the heat, with the mosquitos, with all our stuff in backpacks. A trip that took 15 minutes by boat took 2 hours by foot.

I got sent to serious-ass wilderness camp up in Maine. The only thing you were allowed that used electricity was a flashlight. Learned all kinds of useful outdoor skills: how to start a fire, build a shelter, shoot a gun/bow, crawl into a pile of rocks and use the foliage to conceal your position while remaining motionless for extended periods of time (they called that game Capture the Camper.) Those kids who brought sufficient quantities of bug spray would trade it for the snacks other kids got from home. Whenever you went out in the canoes you would hope to catch a glimpse of Stephen King at his cottage, writing.

I can relate. The camp my mom sent me to sounded nice enough, and the price was a steal. It turns out the reason it was so cheap was that it was a camp for 'underprivileged youths', which at that time (early 80s) was Connecticut-speak for 'black kids'. Me, one of maybe 5 white kids, and the only kid that lived in the country in the first place, with about a thousand inner-city Hartfordites. It VERY QUICKLY became survival camp. Beatings were the most preferable torment, you could *understand* a beating even at that age. But waking up to find your bunkmates pissing on you, I mean how does a 9 year old process that? And the counselors turning a blind eye to it all, to the point they would intercept letters home if you dared speak out on any of it. The only safe place was the river, which I learned was because most of them had only ever swum in the pool at the Y all their lives and were deathly afraid of living things in the water. So if I was in real trouble, I'd run to the river and jump in. My younger sister had also been sent there, and once after having been injured by someone in her cabin, the other girls helpfully brought her to the infirmary and literally threw her through the screen door into the office. Good times, good times.

I do take some solace in that while yes it was horrible, it didn't sour me on race relations as I grew up. And even then it didn't 'feel' racial, it was largely cultural; it didn't get really bad until they had learned I wasn't from the city like the other kids. (Unfortunately that was pretty much right away lol)

Had horses, a lake, all that kinda shit. More tears from injuries than from bullies since it was a religious camp, but there were a few.

"Best" memory was a kid lifting up the log from a wasp nest, ending up with many kids at the nurse and where I saw a counselor dive off the side of a steep hill into rough brush rather than face the stingers.

Summer camp was... okay, as far as I recall. But I dont remember if I actually liked it or I just found the ritual of it comforting. My childhood as far as I can remember consisted mostly of various tolerable activities I participated in because the scheduling and structure provided a sense of security.

Yep, I can already sense that I will be solidly in Tycho's corner on this one.

I was sent to church camp, which is basically Bible time in the woods. They too have bullies though, and nerds. Guess which one I was. I learned skills such as "hiding under my bed", and "trading snacks to avoid beatings".

I remember my brand new swimsuit being too big for me, and you can imagine how that turned out.

Camp for me was through the Scouts, and I loved it. Tents, wide games, cooking outdoors, making trebuchets out of logs, all that stuff.

As well as the week-long camp in the summer we had weekend camps for more specific activities to get badges, like Camp Cook or Naturalist. In order to get my Survival Skills badge I stayed overnight in a leaky bivouac and cooked an inadequate meal over a terrible camp fire (I didn't get how to properly get a fire going until I was 27 when I wasn't going to get penalised for using a fire lighter). There was an annual competition for camping, where you got marked on how well you could pitch a D4, presentation of your camp ground, how well you could cook over half an oil drum filled with wood you'd collected yourself, that sort of thing.

I'm pretty sure the current trend of summer camps for adults is an extension of "safe spaces", is it not?

It seems like you just wanted to gripe about how much you don't like "safe spaces". I mean, where else would you even get this idea? It's like those people who bring up politics in a story about a dog that's best friends with a squirrel.

I'm pretty sure the current trend of summer camps for adults is an extension of "safe spaces", is it not?

It seems like you just wanted to gripe about how much you don't like "safe spaces". I mean, where else would you even get this idea? It's like those people who bring up politics in a story about a dog that's best friends with a squirrel.

Well maybe if the dogs would ever lower acorn taxes the squirrels wouldn't have to hoard them and some of those nuts could be repatriated.

When I was in fifth grade I went to camp with a bunch of my fellow grade school students. When I got there it turns out I hadn't gotten my adoptive aunt to sign the permission slip. She'd thought my uncle had filled it out hence why she let me go. I'd already been there a few hours and had my bunk assigned when she showed up to take me home. She'd had to drive an hour and a half to get me. I was crushed and cried the whole way home. For awhile I resented myself for what was a simple mistake but I eventually learned to accept it.

Looking back I realize I saved myself from an even more negative experience. I wasn't great at talking to people or making friends back then. I would have spent that summer feeling lonely and having to deal with being made fun of for being chubby. Instead I got to spend it with my big sister. At the time I acted annoyed about it but I realize now she's the best friend I've ever had.

Edit: Y'know...it was pretty dicked of them to make a little kid go back home when all my aunt had to do was sign the slip. I suddenly realize my aunt who has always worried about me too much may have used it as an excuse to bring me back home where I'd be safe. It had taken a ton of convincing and whining to even get her to let me go in the first place. Kinda shaking my head at that. Ah, well.

My camp experience would have been fine if not for the freak weather that year. 40 degrees in summer in virginia and all most of the kids had were shorts and t shirts. The area was also in the cicada migration path so all the buildings were covered with them.
Then I twisted my ankle on the steps up to the cabins. We did get to go to a water park down the road though and ride a jet ski on the lake so it wasn't all bad. But otherwise would preferred to stayed home.